“Manito,” she starts. “I realize that you were…” She clears her throat. “Not in your best state of mind when you did this, but…” There’s a long, awkward pause. “I mean, you already did it. Don’t you think you should—”
“Iknowthat we—meaning Natalia andme—need to figure out what to do right now,” he says firmly. He rubs large circles against my back before drawing his hand away as he adds, “Right, Natalia? Like we talked about this morning?”
It’snotwhat we talked about this morning. At least, not exactly. But it’s clear that being in the presence of his sisters and being reminded of what his parents are going to think has solidified his commitment toundoing this. And that’s not going to work. I’ll just have to change his mind. And fortunately, I am well-equipped to do so.
My hand is still on his thigh like a good little submissive, supportive wife, and I give it another firm rub—but this time I rub significantly closer to where I know the true control center is located. There’s an instant flush of heat that radiates from him, and his cock stiffens, immediately straining against his well-tailored slacks.
And that’s when I blink up at him, offering an expert doe-eyed gaze from below long, fluffy eyelashes. “Claro que si, mi amor.”
Of course, my love.
Anything you say, my love.
I don’t miss the discreet catch of his bottom lip between his teeth. Isla says something else, but Joaquin doesn’t even hear it.
It can be a slow process wrapping a man around your finger, but if done correctly, it never fails. And then, they will follow you anywhere.
Including into their own bed, where you subdue them and drain every last ounce of blood from their veins.
ONE MIGHT THINK THAT the Bellagio pool, with all of its pristine, glittering water, luxurious landscaping, bodacious fountains, and readily available, nearby bars would be enough to satisfy anyone. But no. Not the Reyes kids.
No, the adult Reyes kids, who live off their father’s ample tit, require a private cabana located next to a secluded wading pool with its own massive fountain. Inside the gleaming white cabana, there is a flat screen TV—you know, in case you’d like to veg out next to a pool rather than in your ridiculously luxurious hotel room. There’s also a dedicated server so you don’t have to walk twenty feet to get an overpriced drink. I mean, why walk anywhere when you can have a bottle service setup delivered to you, right?
Ido notsit inside the cabana. It’s a little too ridiculous for my liking, and I don’t like enclosed spaces—even though this one is open on one side with a boujee pool view. The white walls and the reason I’m here in the first place remind me too much of The Room—the cartel’s designated “home” for me while they did the work that turned me into what I am now. Instead, I select one of the cushy, white lounge chairs next to the wading pool and stretch out on my stomach.
Joaquin is in the cabana with Colin Flannery, a guy who was taken in by Ernesto and Fortuna Reyes while he was a young teen and subsequently raised by them, and the two are sorting out the drink orders. Elle Kissinger, Colin’s wife as of last night’s slew of impulsive Vegas marriages, is in the cabana as well, but when I stepped out, she was squinting incredulously at the upcharged selection and services, informing the two men, “You know you can get all of this at half the price from the bar right over there, right?”
I like Elle. Her brain has clearly not been clouded by obscene wealth and is still fully functional.
She and Lili eventually emerge from the cabana to approach the lounge chairs. Elle takes a seat on one next to mine, while Lili dips a toe in the water and shields her eyes as she surveys the whole pool area.
With green eyes hidden behind big, limo-tint sunglasses, Elle sweeps up her cascades of honey-blonde hair, twisting it into a bun while she turns to me. “I know we’ve only known each other for a little more than twelve hours, but I kind of have to ask.”
I look at her from behind my own cat-eye sunglasses and prop myself up on my elbows. “Ask what?”
She glances behind her as though checking on the guys and then looks back at me. “Do you really want to be married to him? Or was it really just a drunken mistake?” She presses her lips together, smoothing her pink tinted lip balm. “Because, full disclosure, you didn’t really seem that drunk, and Joaquin seemed alittledrunk, but nowhere near as bad as I’ve seen him in the past. So I guess I’m just curious if you feel… I don’t know…goodabout it.”
I open my mouth and close it, feigning awkwardness and like I don’t know how to answer such a question—even though I knowexactlyhow to respond to these kinds of questions.
Elle gestures blindly behind her. “They’re going to be in there for a few minutes, and I promise to keep it between us, so feel free to spill your guts.”
“Oh.” I pause and make a big show of sheepishly studying my nails, which were shellacked blood red two days ago in preparation for this assignment. The only time the cartel ever allows me to wear nail polish is in preparation for an assignment. Silly and frivolous as it may be, I kind of like it. “Well, he did make quite an impression on me,” I admit. Despite it being part of the entire ruse, the statement is actually true. “I broke up with a toxic man months ago, and he began stalking me for a while. I received a text yesterday from someone I thought was a friend from out of town, but it was a set-up for me to come to the casino so he could basically harass me again.”
Turning my head, I cast a long look toward the cabana. Joaquin is gesturing with emphatic amusement at the drink menu, the naturally tan, perfectly sculpted muscles of his abs, shoulders and arms flexing haphazardly. Colin, also shirtless and totally ripped—albeit not as tan as Joaquin—is chuckling, flashing movie-star-white teeth and dimples, and the foxy waitress is dutifully nodding and keying the order into a tablet.
I look back toward Elle and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “So, Joaquin happened to be nearby during the… um… confrontation, and he intervened. He took me to a quieter bar and helped me calm down, and we just talked for a long time.” I pause for effect and then push the sunglasses up to the top of my head, giving her a fake earnest look that penetrates her dark lenses. “My life is… troublesome. Things are hard. It would take me all day and all night and all day again to explain it. But I told him enough of it last night that he became hell-bent on saving me from it.” Fluttering my lashes, I huff. “I’m sure it sounds absurd and irresponsible, but when you’ve never really experienced safety, and you encounter someone who seems to not only personify safety, but also insists that you let them help you, it kind of… just…” I lift one shoulder and let it drop. “Means everything.”
Elle abruptly swipes her sunglasses off her face, shaking her head quickly enough that her bun loosens and her hair falls in golden waves over her shoulders. “Oh, no. I get that. I could tell you some horror stories from when I was a kid.”
To my surprise, a smile forces its way across my mouth. Misery loves company, I guess. But I would guess that whatever happened to Elle wasn’t nearly as horrifying as what I lived through, because she obviously didn’t turn into whatIdid.
“Yeah,” I say, holding the small smile. “So, because of that, I do think this marriage could work, and I also would like it to. Although, I am worried about what Isla said. Joaquin’s father sounds a little…” I cringe. “Scary.”
“Oh.” Elle’s green eyes go huge and round before she rolls them so hard that her fluffy, sable lashes flap wildly. “He is. He’s not exactly a warm, teddy bear type of man. I’ve been on the receiving end of his temper. And Isla hasreallybeen on the receiving end of it. What he did to her…” She shakes her head again and gives a low whistle. “It was unforgivable. She was abducted while she was in college and basically tortured, and he blamed her for it. Then later, he arranged a marriage between her and Malachi, who was completely abusive, and—”
Elle’s words screech to a halt and her gaze shifts sideways nervously. I force my face into a stunned expression of wide eyes and lips formed into an O, feigning shock at her words—even though I know all about Isla’s kidnapping, the abuse she endured, and her shit-show of an arranged marriage.
She clears her throat and lowers her voice. “It’s honestly not my place to say anything about all of that. Malachi has cleaned up his act and treats her well now, but I’m still not his biggest fan.”
